


Painkiller

by HackedTig



Series: PainKiller [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I think?, Its cute leave me alone, Mutual Pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 01:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12901410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackedTig/pseuds/HackedTig
Summary: Angela is having a rough time adjusting to life at Overwatch. Her senior, Doctor O’Deorain appears to have a keen interest in supporting her, but not how she should be. Moircy/Angelic Decent Introduction Fluffs





	Painkiller

That was the third night in a row she had gone without sleep. The exhausted combat medic leaned into her chair in her lab with a bit of a huff. Not even coffee was doing much to satisfy Angela’s needs of staying awake. She wanted to collapse, but her body and mind were so restless with upset thought, that she could barely entertain the idea. Of course, Post traumatic stress was one hell of an insomniac maker, more than the good doctor already was. The threat of war around her just made the entirety of it all a painful trifecta. 

Viewing over a few set papers on her desk, she could barely read what any of it said. Just the attempt hurt her tired eyes. But, the writing was in familiar dark ink, and in a very lovely handwriting style… 

_“Doctor Moira O’Deorain”_ Angela let the thought pass her mind as she took a careful sip of coffee. Eleven years her senior, and heavily acquitted to this lifestyle. She was a geneticist, and here for far longer than Angela. What she did previously, no one had a clue. All the blonde knew, was her knees grew weak in the older woman’s presence. 

She was distracted still by the neat, cursive writing made by the rather long hands of the geneticist, as her door opened. Her attention was hardly caught, till the intruder spoke. 

“Doctor Ziegler, You look terrible.” 

Just as she had swiftly invaded her thoughts, Moira had entered the lab. Coat still on and not hung in her office, the geneticist stood tall with her hair slicked back, and confidence in her features. It was clear that this was her first visit this morning before her office. There was a trace of worry over her features as her gaze fell over Angela’s exhausted form. 

“Good morning, Doctor O’Deorain” Angela said softly, tucking a strand of blonde behind her ear as she stood. She completely overlooked the… comment, and put forth a tired smile. 

Moira stepped closer, and grabbed Angela’s face by her jaw, pulling it up to better inspect it. With a height difference of around twelve and a half centimeters or so, It did not fail to make the blonde blush. “... You haven’t been sleeping, have you?” Moira questioned the younger scientist, and Angela felt her face heat up more at the question, and she stepped back to sit in her chair properly. 

“I… Have not had a good night's rest, no” Angela responded calmly, and took another sip of her coffee. 

Curiously looking over the sight, Moira pulled back the papers she had placed on the desk not long ago, and folded them back up. “Go back to your quarters and get rest, Ziegler. A tired doctor is no better than a guinea pig.” Moira instructed, and Angela gave her a stern glare right back. 

“I worked just fine yesterday, and the day before” Angela said stubbornly. “I’m more than capable of my work.” 

“Somehow, I seem to doubt that” Moira responded, and she took the chair in front of Angela’s desk, sitting prim in it. “Are you meaning to say you haven’t slept in three days?” 

Another sip of coffee came to hide the need to answer. Needless to say, the Irish woman did not like that response. “Angela. I mean it. You need your rest. Working your life away isn’t always the best path.” Moira told her, her tone just a little softer this time. 

“Who says I was working the entire time and not actually trying to sleep…” Angela muttered into her mug, her gaze low. 

Moira processed this, then became a little less rigid. “You have sleeping problems, then.” 

“Insomnia. Stress overload.” Angela figured it would do no good to dance around the subject, no matter how stubborn she was. “But I assure you, Doctor O’Deorain, I’m fine. I’ll still get my duties done.” 

“You need rest.” Moira insisted again. “At least stay in bed until you can fall asleep. Or take one of the many medications around the base.” 

“I can’t” Came the snappy response, and Moira straightened her back. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Prescription medication will disrupt my experiments. My nanites. I rather not test the effect.” Angela responded in a slight blurted way, and hid her shame with her mug. 

The ginger let a thoughtful expression drape over her face. “Hm… What else besides…. ‘Stress overload’ is causing your issues, Angela?” 

Another sip of silent protest. But this time, it at least looked as if Angela was considering how to answer. She set her mug down, and drummed her fingers on her desk. “... its this lifestyle, Moira... “ She sighed softly. “I… I cant sit easy knowing… knowing everyone here is fighting for their lives just outside the door. And it all falls on me to keep them safe” 

“That’s no different than a hospital, is it?” Moira inquired. Surely, it was the same thing. Wasn’t it? 

“No. In a hospital, at the very least, those i treated lived normal lives. As normal as they could have. But here…. Every one is a soldier. They live and die here. Expected to sacrifice everything in a mad fit of violence…” Moira could see Angela visibly begin to shake. “Here… their injuries weren’t an accident. They are deliberate. They are being hurt intentionally in a pointless war. Its… it’s unbearable to think about. Seeing Commander Morrison even, come in the other week with the shrapnel stuck in his side, I almost couldn’t save him, Moira I….. We….” 

 

As tears slipped from those icy blue eyes, Moira finally stood. Angela looked up in curiosity as she watched the tall woman move, around the desk, and to her side. Suddenly, she was up, and her face was pressed into quite the small, but plush bust of Moira. Her face was almost cherry colored, and Moira continued her tight hold. It… was soothing in a way, and being this close to Moira, Angela could just feel her heart beat rapidly in her chest. There was also a nice scent wafting off the black button up shirt the Irish woman wore, a natures scent mixed with whiskey. It was…. Almost soothing to smell. “Just relax, Angela… It gets easier with time.” Moira assured her, and gave her back a gentle rub. The younger Swiss woman felt herself squeak, and she squeezed Moira right back. 

She eventually let her eyes flutter shut, and with the way her head was, there was a slow thumping she could hear just beyond the black cotton fabric. It… really was soothing in its own way. Eventually, one of those hands went from her shoulder blades, to running through the short bob cut of her blonde hair. That was it. That had Angela practically melting in Moira’s grasp. 

She felt… extremely comfortable being held like this. It was as if there was a mother’s touch behind that rather offset heart of hers. Motherly… or something entirely different. Angela couldn’t be bothered to find out. The Swiss hummed into the hold, and felt her weight and strength slip from her. 

Moira noticed this, and she picked Angela up swiftly after. Now in a bridal hold, Angela snuggled into Moira’s chest almost nonchalantly, as if they had done this numerous times before. It seemed as if her body was finally giving in to the tiredness it felt. All that Angela’s mind was full of, from that simple distraction, was the thin pale face of her colleague, muttering things in what Angela recognized as Irish Gaelic. 

Angela was so soothed, and close to the point of passing out, that she didn’t even notice Moira taking her out of the medical lab. 

.

.

.

The next thing that Angela could remember, she was in her own bed. In her quarters. They were quite small, but she had a desk and a side table, as well as a mini fridge. It was just enough for her to be living in it, if she wanted to. She was still dressed in her work clothes, but this time had a particular garment draped over her. That smelled distinctly of something outdoorsy and whiskey. Moira’s lab coat…!

Sitting up, Angela looked around the room. There was no trace of Moira anywhere, beyond her lab coat having been treated as an extra blanket to Angela’s body. She almost missed the white note sitting in her lap as she searched around for the geneticist, and found a second clue to her being here. 

_Ziegler,_

_It would appear to be that you’ve fallen asleep in my arms. As adorable as that scene may have been, I’ve placed you back in your quarters for now. You may come find me when you’re ready, but for now, enjoy the labcoat. You seemed to like how it smelled._

_Moira_

The good doctor felt her heart flutter up in her chest, and warmth spread across her entire body. A nervous little shiver went down her spine as she tugged the lab coat up more to her chest, and she sighed in some form of comfort, even as her face spread in a dark red blush. 

To say Angela had a crush was an understatement. 

…. To Moira on the outside of Angela’s door, hearing the soft sigh of content brought a smile to her pale face. 

Romantics had been an overlooked scenario…. But it was now no longer an impossibility.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm Tig, its 4:40 AM, and this took me an hour to write because I've been listening to too much Three Days Grace
> 
> Sorry if its crappy, I'll go over it tomorrow! <3 Comments and suggestions are lovely as always~


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